Nothing More Than a Box of Confusion

It's impossible to believe that we’re all the same.
We can’t say that we belong in a bubble, that we fit in a box.
How can that even be?
Especially, since I feel like I’m so many people at once on any given day.

Some days I want to play outside all day.
I want to run through the woods and touch every plant, tree, and flower.
I wanna feel the sun course through my veins.
I wanna be swallowed by the stars.
I wanna experience the shift from night to day.
I wanna feel my existence.

But on other days I just want to be still.
I don’t want to have to think too hard about what comes next or what happened last.
Or try too hard to have a conversation.
Conversations of “nice weather we’re having” or “I’m fantastic, how are you?”

On these days, I just want to stare.
Stare at the TV, or more likely the wall if we're being completely honest.
Listen to a monotonous tune, a mundane beat.
Not having to feel the pressure of being human.

And then on other days, I want to be loud.
I want to play my music at an obscene level of volume.
I want to feel it in every single cell of my body.
I want to talk about controversial things, just so I can raise my voice a bit.
Just so I can create a little bit of chaos.

I like chaos.
I like to play in it.
But I do not thrive in it. It consumes me.

Then there’s another part of me that reminds me to be like water.
Like the water that is within all of us.
It whispers in my ear to be calm.
To "remain as you are".
It tells me to mimic it.
To float.
To flow.
To feel like I’m flying.

And then on other days, I want to play rough.
I want to caress the flames, hold them.
I allow them to consume me whole.
I like to watch them frolic on the tip of my fingers.
Allowing the flames to lick my lips as I hold them up to my face to feel the heat.

The days when I’m holding the flame in the palms of my hands.
The days when the flames bite brings me pleasure.
These are the days when the flames can be seen in the darkness of my eyes.

And then there are the days when I’m insane.
When nothing that I say, or you say, will make any sense.
On these days, I’m the most frustrated.

The days when I can’t communicate.
The days when I’m crying from fear.
The days when I’m angry.
When I’m sad, lost….confused.
The days when I don’t want to look at anyone.
The days when I don’t want to look at myself.
The days when nothing matters.
Except for...

The.
Ticking.
Of.
The.
Clock.

But these are the days I love the most.
These are the days that make me grateful.

Grateful for the laughter in my soul.
Grateful for the beat of my heart.
Grateful for the smell of lilacs.
And grateful for the sound of song.
These are the days that taught me to love.

So on the days that I’m flying with fire,
And the days that I’m floating on the tide,
And those damn days when my mind is eating me alive,
I know that everything is always alright.
I know that I’m still shining.
I know that I’m here.
And I know that I'm perfect as I am.

So it’s impossible to say that every one of us can be the same,
When I’m not even the same as I was yesterday.